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Montague proposes a computational model to understand addiction. His key idea is a special kind of reward prediction error signal in addicts. In his comments, Yaffe discusses what Montague's work on the neuroscience of addiction does and does not show about moral responsibility. Sripada then outlines how additional deficits in reflective judgments of addicts might also be relevant to their moral responsibility. Montague replies by agreeing that we need a new generation of models to capture the kinds of considerations raised by his commentators.

Mele uses survey methods of experimental philosophy to argue that folk notions of freedom and responsibility do not really require any dubious mind–body dualism. In his comment, Nadelhoffer questions Mele's interpretation of the experiments and adds contrary data of his own. Vargas then suggests that Mele overlooks yet another threat to free will—sourcehood. Mele replies by reinterpreting Nadelhoffer's data and rejecting Vargas’ claim that free will requires sourcehood.

Lee and Harris argue that people's overall positions on free will depend less on arguments and more on social rewards, so members of a coherent social group will end up holding similar positions on free will and moral responsibility that conflict with positions held just as strongly by members of other social groups. They apply this point to academic disputes among scholars trained in different disciplines, especially philosophy, law, neuroscience, and psychology. Social psychologists Chapman and Cunningham largely agree and provide further support from accounts of complex decisionmaking, including moral decisionmaking. In contrast, Vargas, a philosopher, doubts that academic debates can be understood completely in terms of social “groupishness.” Lee and Harris reply by suggesting that many of the points made counter to their argument actually support their position.

Gazzaniga defends a version of “semi-compatibilism” in which determinism is incompatible with free action and free will but is still compatible with moral responsibility, because moral responsibility is inherently social, so it does not conflict with neuroscience and physics in the way that free will does. In their commentaries, Dennett and Newsome both suggest that Gazzaniga gave up on freedom too quickly. Gazzaniga's reply introduces an analogy to robots in order to show how we can lack freedom but still be responsible in a social way.

A rich theme running through Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein is responsibility. The novel explores the responsibility that Victor Frankenstein has for the destruction caused by his scientific curiosity, as well as the responsibility that he owes to his creation. Victor Frankenstein’s creature has emotions, desires and dreams that cannot be satisfied by humans. So the creature comes to Victor, first pleading—and then demanding—that he create a female companion with whom he can experience peace and love. While Victor grapples intellectually and practically with the implications of being responsible both for and to the creature, he also experiences responsibility as a devastating physical and emotional state. In this way, Mary Shelley raises a third kind of responsibility—to the self.

Churchland and Suhler argue that we can have control without responding to conscious reasons, and that control (rather than free will) is what really matters to responsibility. In their comment, Coutlee and Huettel distinguish model-free and model-based control and suggest that the kind of responsibility for model-free control might be more limited than that for model-based control. Levy then argues that consciousness is more important to responsibility than Churchland and Suhler claim. In reply, Churchland and Suhler explain how their view can be made compatible with the insights of Coutlee and Huettel as well as Levy.

Furlong and Santos survey studies of framing and situational influences on behavior in capuchin monkeys as well as humans, but they argue that both humans and monkeys can still have some control and freedom. In his comment, Hare suggests that a comparative and evolutionary approach might illuminate the function of control and free will in both humans and other species. Miller, however, is more critical of the implications that Furlong and Santos (as well as Hare) draw from their data. In their reply, Furlong and Santos argue that their main points survive these criticisms.

Theories of moral desert focus only on the personal culpability of the agent to determine the amount of blame and punishment the agent deserves. Here an alternative account of desert is defended, one that does not focus only on facts about offenders and their offenses. In this revised framework, personal culpability can do no more than set upper and lower limits for deserved blame and punishment. For more precise judgments within that spectrum, additional factors must be considered, factors that are independent of the agent and the offense. This is referred to as the “partial conception” of desert because it takes facts about victims—their behavior, desires, and attitudes—into account for desert judgments. On this view, then, agents who are equally culpable may deserve different amounts of blame or punishment, depending on these victim-related factors.

This chapter turns to accounts of moral responsibility that make control a central condition. Focusing on the relatively undemanding account of control developed by John Martin Fischer and Martin Ravizza, I argue that agents who are not conscious of the facts that give to their actions their moral significance do not exercise control over that significance. It is also explained how agents may be capable of breathtaking creativity without relying on the conscious integration of contents. The chapter concludes with some remarks on George Sher’s arguments against the claim that consciousness is needed for moral responsibility. Sher’s account is criticized on the grounds that the account of capacities to which it is committed is unsatisfactory, the demands it levels are in the actual world unfair, and his account of origination is too permissive.

Haynes summarizes his scientific research on the neural basis for intentions (including predictions of intentions) and suggests implications for epiphenomenalism, which implies that our mental intentions, choices, and will cannot really cause our bodily movements. In their comments, Bayne and Schroeder express doubts about whether Haynes's experiments really show as much as Haynes claims. Haynes replies by admitting some limitations but arguing further that the ability of neuroscientists to decode intentions and predict actions raises serious problems for traditional views of free will and moral responsibility.

Baumeister discusses determinism and reductionism with emphases on self-regulation and conscious and meaningful causation of behavior. Baumeister concludes that freedom exists but can only be seen by looking at the proper level of analysis. In their comments, Holton questions some of Baumeister's philosophical moves, and then Payne and Cameron suggest new psychological methods (centrally the process dissociation procedure) to better understand conscious intentions and their causal roles. Baumeister responds appreciatively but defends his claim that “rational choice deserves a role in a psychological theory of free will.”

This chapter analyzes an apparent incompatibility between a traditional theistic view of heaven and theodicies that centrally appeal to libertarian free will in responding to the problem of evil. Toward resolving this incompatibility, leading strategies (i) deploy a tracing (historical or externalist) account of freedom and moral responsibility along with the related distinction between occurrent (or direct) freedom and derivative (or indirect) freedom, (ii) hold that freedom makes possible the realization of “freedom goods,” goods uniquely actualized by freedom and of such outweighing value that they (at least partly) justify God’s permission of evil, and (iii) hold that heavenly acts manifest freedom goods by being derivatively free. It argues that these strategies for reconciling the alleged incompatibility founder on ambiguities in how they employ the notion of derivative freedom, and that available disambiguations both fail to show the requisite compatibility, and face significant and unnoticed objections to their possible success.